


let me put on a show for you daddy

by sky_reid



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Comeplay, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Felching, Harry in Panties, Lingerie, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sex Toys, Spanking, Subspace, and he likes being called pretty maybe a bit too much, anyway, bc it's not, but different interpretations and all, dom louis/sub harry, god damn, i always forget something, i don't wanna tag that specifically, like i guess you can read it as age play???, like two don't get your hopes up, more like attention kink but alright, no i screech like a harpy, stop it with the bad jokes tink you beg, these just keep getting longer good god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6057568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry is an art (per)form(ance).</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me put on a show for you daddy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stylinsinz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinsinz/gifts), [hightopsandysl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hightopsandysl/gifts).



> (i'm a bit late rip) happy birthday, leah! ❤️ thanks for being super sweet and nice and helping me out with the randomest things and starting up conversation with things like "what if harry had a really small dick", i love you and i hope you enjoy this :)
> 
> (this one i'm _just_ on time with) happy birthday, ana! ❤️ thanks for always indulging me on tumblr and being awake at weird times and talking to me about louis' armpits and body hair instead of studying, all the love x
> 
> i hope you two don't mind too much that i've convalesced this into a combined gift (sharing is caring and all that), your birthdays are really close and i'm really sleep deprived (and also really sorry) but really love you and really wanted to give you both something so this happened ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> i didn't really describe the set-up behind this so feel free to imagine it as literally any time louis' ever worn a suit (but in my head they had an important event prior to this, something like maybe, tomorrow after the brits or coughcough, a wedding)
> 
> i personally am not particularly happy with this one but maybe you will be

He spreads his legs slowly, keeps his feet planted firmly on the bed and parts his knees until he can see Louis in the frame of his thighs. He feels a shiver run through him at the way Louis is looking at him, dispassionate and disinterested and with just a hint of challenge in the set of his jaw. He's still wearing his suit; it's slightly wrinkled now from where it's been clinging onto the curves of his body all night. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, showing just a peek of bare skin. Other than that, he looks just as impeccable and put-together as he has all night. The armchair he's sitting in should dwarf him, make him appear even smaller than he really is. It doesn't. He's always a giant in Harry's eyes when they play like this, but today he looks even older, even more commanding and in control. Not a single muscle in his body so much as twitches; he's not bouncing his foot where his ankle rests on his knee and his fingers curve over the edges of the armrests elegantly without gripping it. His eyes never stray away from Harry, yet he appears entirely unaffected. Harry blushes.

The only light in the room is on the bed (on  _him_ ) making it feel like a stage that he's performing on. Even after so many years, that still gets his heart racing. He runs his hands over his thighs and sighs. The skin is smooth and soft, sparkling with the glittery lotion he put on after he shaved. He squirms a little lower on the bed. The position alone is enough to turn him on, the fact that Louis is watching is enough to make him feel like there's lightning sparking all over his body. He clenches around the plug in his arse, careful not to moan at the feeling. It's the only thing Louis doesn't know about, a little pink thing he put in after Louis fucked him that afternoon. He picked it to match the colour of his panties so it wouldn't be obvious through the lace. He kind of wishes it were a bit bigger, feels embarrassingly almost like it might slip out, but it's served its purpose, kept him prepped and ready and full, helped him keep Louis' come inside him. He can't wait to see how Louis reacts to it. His toes curl at the thought. His cock twitches where it's resting against his hip, trapped by the slightly scratchy lace. The head of it is already wet, smears precome over his skin.

He licks his lips when his hands come down to his hips and brush over the pink lace. He's seen Louis get hard from just looking at his mouth; he wonders if it's happening right now. The room gets significantly darker past the fuzzy edge of the circle of light cast on the bed by the reading lamp and Louis' entire body is hidden in shadows so he can't see for sure, but he can imagine the way his cock fills up, lengthening and fattening under the fabric. His mouth waters.

He watches Louis as he runs his hands up his belly and to his chest. His nipples have already hardened and he flicks his thumbs over the sensitive peaks a few times. The stutter in his breathing is unusually loud in the unnatural quiet of the room. He thinks he sees Louis' eyes zero in on his chest when he presses two fingers down on either side and rubs his nipples in tight circles. He lets his head sink into the soft pillow underneath; a few breathy moans escape him when he pinches his nipples between his fingers and he rolls his hips, grinding down into the bed. From this position he can only vaguely make out where Louis is sitting, sees the lines of his body through the blur of his eyelashes, but he knows Louis is watching even if he's not reacting. He can feel a flush spreading down his neck and to his chest. He hopes it matches the shade of his panties; he wants to make a pretty picture for Louis.

He twists his nipples so pain shoots down his spine and settles pleasantly in the pit of his belly. His cock pulses, leaking heavily over his hip. He lifts his hips up, tightens around the plug in his arse when the roll of his hips makes the lace drag over his sensitised cock. He falls back down onto the bed, grunting at how the plug nudges deeper inside him. His eyes flutter closed when he runs his thumbs over his nipples, not even sure himself if he's trying to soothe the pain or prolong it. He lifts his head up a little so he can look at Louis again; a thrill of pleasure runs down his spine when their eyes meet. Louis hasn't moved from his position in the armchair, still looks just as regal and composed. He raises one eyebrow.

Harry grunts and turns his head to the side, cheeks burning. He's always shameless about putting on a show especially in front of Louis, but this isn't just  _Louis_ , it's  _Daddy_ and that changes everything. Harry pinches his nipples again, twists them the other way so pain sears through his chest, sharp enough to make him gasp; then he twists further. His back arches off the bed and he whimpers a little, the first even remotely loud sound he's made since he laid himself out on the bed for Louis. He waits for Louis to tell him to stop, to move on, to do something else; Louis stays silent.

He falls onto the bed like a puppet with its strings cut when he lets go, the sudden relief going straight to his cock and making it jump. His hands go to his belly; it rises and falls quickly with his panting and the skin is already damp with sweat. He keeps his eyes tightly shut while he takes a few deep breaths. He knows Louis is watching, feels the prickling on the back of his neck, hears the rustle of clothing. He can't help but look back.

Louis is still casually leaned back in the chair, his arms still resting by his sides. His legs are spread though, as far as the chair will allow it seems, and there's just a hint of a smirk curling one corner of his lips upwards. Even in the dark, the bulge between his legs is obvious. Light catches on the sweat that's pooled in the hollow of his throat. Harry whimpers at how much he suddenly  _needs_ ; he wants to get off the bed and crawl over to Louis, wants to settle himself on his knees between Louis' thighs where he belongs, wants to choke himself on Louis' dick until he can't breathe, wants to have Louis come on his smiling face. His nails sink into the soft skin under his hands. Louis only needs to raise his eyebrows for Harry's belly to swoop and a near-pained little whine escape his throat. " _Daddy_ ," he whispers, more to himself than to Louis. Louis shows no indication to have heard him anyway.

Harry trails his fingers down his body, careful not to touch his cock when he thumbs over the scalloped trim of his knickers down the juncture of his thighs and crotch. He runs his hands up his inner thighs, pushing his legs further apart. He knows the kind of picture he makes like this, has been told and photographed and filmed more than once, but nothing feels quite as rewarding as the way Louis' eyes follow his every move or how he lingers on his favourite spots - the curves of his hips, the peaks of his nipples, the lines of his tattoos, the bulge of his cock, the marks on his thighs. He shivers all the way down to his toes, bites his lip when he finally cups one hand over his balls and gives them a squeeze. The way Louis' lips part on the next intake of breath and the quick flash of his teeth as they graze his lower lip as if mimicking Harry's own expression are more satisfying than the touch itself.

Harry wraps the fingers of his other hand around the base of his cock, grunting loudly at the sudden burst of pleasure he gets from finally paying attention to it. He shapes out the girth of it with his fingers, stretching the lace until the elastic waistband cuts into his hips. A wet spot has formed at the tip of his cock where he's leaking; it gets bigger when he rubs his thumb over the cockhead, gasping at the rough drag of lace over the slit. He tightens his fist as he strokes down, unintentionally pulling the panties down enough for the head to pop out. He frowns when he sees how obscene it looks, the almost angry red of it not a match to the colour of his underwear, the slimy-looking wetness somehow in contrast with the delicate softness of the lace. He brings his hand back up and nudges his cock to the side again, stuffing the head back under the waistband. "Wanna be pretty for Daddy," he mumbles, then immediately feels his cheeks flame up again at the embarrassment of essentially talking to himself. He fits his hand over himself again, feels out the give of lace around his cock and starts stroking himself slowly. He massages his balls in the same rhythm, presses the heel of that palm down over the base of his cock. He moans exaggeratedly, painfully aware of the fact that he's being watched,  _judged._

The hand on his cock stutters when he looks up from it and finds Louis watching his face. He does't know why that particular detail makes his heart skip and his belly tighten, but his eyes flutter shut briefly and a broken moan falls from his lips. A wave of heat washes over him. He speeds up his strokes, adds a twist of the wrist at the end, runs his thumb over the head with flourish; Louis' eyes stay stubbornly on his face. He whines in frustration. He wants it to look good for Louis, wants Louis not to be able to look away, wants Louis to tell him that he's doing well. He squeezes around the shaft one last time before loosening his fist. When he presses down with the palm he's got at the base, his cock stands out from his belly, pulling the panties away from his skin. He can just about make out the dark line of it under the lace in his peripheral vision. He trails his fingers up and down the covered curve of it, leaving only the tips touching him so every twitch and pulse is visible without his hand in the way. It doesn't matter that the pressure on the base and his balls is bordering on painful or that the touch of his fingers is far too light to be anything more than a terrible tease because the only thing he needs is Louis' attention and approval. All he gets is another smirk. He feels his chest tighten in desperation; he wants to see Louis' eyes take all of him in again, wants what he's doing to be interesting enough to warrant at least a glance, wants to feel pretty enough for Louis not to know where to look first. He hasn't heard Louis' voice in what feels like forever, hasn't been called  _baby_ or  _darling_ in so long he aches for it, hasn't been told he's being a good boy for Daddy at all since he started.

" _Daddy_ ," he whines, desperate for more of a reaction. He gives up on the awkward position he's put himself in with a huff, melts into the bed and goes back to kneading roughly at his cock and whimpering when the lace scratches the overly sensitive skin. "Please," he begs, letting his legs fall open further and hoping the shift in position catches Louis' attention. Louis raises both eyebrows as if in question. Harry's cock pulses, more precome dribbling out to stain his panties and smear over his skin; he shuts his eyes tightly and swallows heavily around the sudden lump in his throat. All of his breath leaves him in a whoosh before he chokes out, "Please look." He wants to hide his face in a pillow the moment he says it; verbalising it so clearly feels more blatant than anything he's done so far and the adrenaline rush is almost as addicting as the humiliation of having to beg for it. "Please," he repeats, "please look." He squeezes his cock punishingly hard when it kicks, rubs the lace deliberately over the slit that already feels too sensitive and raw.

He almost doesn't want to check if Louis is watching, but it's like he can't help himself. He peeks through his eyelashes first. As if Louis' been waiting for him to look, he blinks slowly then very deliberately and very obviously lets his eyes roam all over Harry's body. They feel almost like a physical touch on Harry's skin and Harry preens, letting the relief of the implicit praise wash over him. He nearly stops breathing when Louis gets to where he's still rubbing himself through the lace; Louis' entire body looks as if it expands with the breath he takes and he lets out the quietest  _oh_ as an exhale. It's the kind of unintentional, visceral reaction that can't be faked and Harry feels it down to his core as if Louis shouted it at him. He keeps pulling at himself with a tight fist, runs the palm of his hand over the head on every few upstrokes and shifts the lace visibly with it even when it's starting to feel like it's rubbing him raw. He trails the fingers of his other hand down from his balls to where the panties just ride up into the cleft of his arse; the moan he makes when he nudges the flared end of the plug isn't entirely intentional, but it works beautifully, makes Louis look down. Harry traces the edge of the base so there's no doubt what it is, then grabs at it and moves it around, making it stretch him out and brush over his prostate purposefully.

Louis swallows audibly, then licks over his lips twice in quick succession, almost like he's too distracted to realise he's already done it once. His nostrils flare and he grips the armrest with one hand, palming at his cock absently with the other. He doesn't really make a sound and he shouldn't need to, his body speaks volumes even without words, but Harry  _needs_ for it to be given voice. He forgets anything else even exists, feels like his whole world narrows down to watching Louis, to doing everything he can think of to elicit a reaction, to the anticipation that courses through him and feels like pressure mounting in every cell of his body. He fists his cock faster, running his thumb over the tip with every stroke; the friction is getting to be too much, the lace starting to rub him too harshly, but the hint of discomfort and pain only makes it feel better. He pulls on the plug, clenches on it instinctively before relaxing; the sudden relief when it pops out makes him moan. He keeps his eyes on Louis when he shoves it roughly back inside, pressing his palm down on it so it goes in as deep as it can.

It feels like the longest second of his life; white noise fills his head and he holds his breath, high-strung and desperate. And then Louis whispers, " _Baby_ ," the gentle sound of it only just enough to fit into the space between two heartbeats but somehow still the only thing that's clear in Harry's ears. And Harry comes.

He arches his back and gasps at the first wave of pleasure that hits him, then melts into the bed and just lets it happen, too overwhelmed to do much more than moan weakly. It feels like all the tension suddenly drains from his body and takes his strength with it, leaving him blissed out but tired. He's still squeezing his cock absently, feeling come ooze thickly down his shaft, soaking the panties and making him all messy. He sighs as the pleasure ebbs away. His toes curl when the first aftershocks hit him.

The bed dips, quickly followed by fingers walking down his inner thigh. He lets his legs fall open, feels Louis' hands wrap around his ankles and guide them so they're stretched out. Louis' suit feels too coarse as it brushes over his skin when Louis stretches out on top of him, hovering just above so Harry can feel the heat of his body. Harry blinks his eyes open slowly. His head feels a bit like it's stuffed to bursting with clouds; the first thing he manages to focus on is the blue of Louis' eyes. He thinks there might be something poetic about that, but it slips his mind before he can fully grasp at it. He feels his lips stretch in a wide dopey smile when Louis runs his fingers through his hair. "Daddy," he says, his voice so rough the word is barely intelligible.

Louis kisses his cheek and keeps combing through his hair. "Yeah, love, 'm here, I've got you," he replies, thumb tracing over Harry's hairline. "How are you feeling?"

Harry nuzzles into his open palm, kisses the inside of his wrist. "Daddy," he mumbles again. He turns to face Louis again and tilts his chin up, asking for a kiss. Louis kisses between his eyebrows instead, making him pout, then pecks his nose and chin. " _Daddy_ ," Harry complains. "Kiss." He deems the way Louis presses a smile against his lips to be good enough.

"Did you like that, baby? Liked showing off for Daddy?" Louis asks, kissing down his neck and nibbling on his collarbones. His fingers tangle in Harry's hair and tug a bit. He licks up the sweat that's gathered in the hollow of Harry's throat. "Looked like you were enjoying yourself," he mumbles against Harry's overheated skin. "Daddy's pretty little boy in his pretty pink panties." He seals his mouth at the centre of Harry's chest and sucks a mark into it. Harry melts into the bed, Louis' words headier than a drug. They make his head buzz pleasantly.

"Pretty?" he repeats. He bites his lip and blushes a little, looking into Louis' eyes. When they crinkle with his smile, Harry feels like the sun is shining directly at him. Warmth spreads through him all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes. He pulls Louis' thumb into his mouth when Louis tries to pull his lip our from between his teeth with it. He swirls his tongue around it and sucks hard enough that his cheeks hollow.

"The prettiest," Louis replies, running his fingers down over the slope of Harry's cheek. "Always so pretty for Daddy, always so good, make Daddy so proud." Harry sighs happily, letting Louis' thumb slip out of his mouth. He feels spit smear over his chin and chest when Louis trails his hand down. He doesn't even realise he's still pumping his cock absently until Louis pulls both his hands away. The relief of it is so immense he's not sure how he could've forgotten he was still touching himself; he's still partially hard, but his cock burns with overstimulation and even with sticky come wetting the fabric, the lace of his panties feels too rough and scratchy. He cries out when Louis brings their hips together and grinds against him. "Made Daddy get so hard from watching you, baby," Louis says; he spreads his legs so he pushes Harry's thighs wider apart and ruts against him in long, drawn-out rolls of his hips. Harry sobs a little with every press of Louis' cock against his. Somehow though, it's almost like he's only doing it out of pure instinct, because the immediate burst of arousal in his belly at knowing that Louis' hard for him,  _because_ of him, easily overrides the discomfort.

He lies back with his arms and legs spread out and closes his eyes. He can hear his own weak whimpers mingle with Louis' harsh breathing, smells his come and the vanilla lotion he's taken a liking to mixed with Louis' cologne and sweat, feels Louis' beard scratch over his skin when Louis starts kissing down his chest. When Louis lifts off of him, he lifts his hips to follow, the urge to be as close to Louis as possible stronger than anything else. "Please," he whines, not even sure what he's asking for. He doesn't expect it when Louis runs a tight fist down his cock and squeezes at the base, gasps and arches his back at the too-sharp pleasure that shoots up his spine.

"Mmm, look at you, darling," Louis coos, tongue darting out to flick one of Harry's nipples. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen," he praises before biting down on the still hard and sensitive peak. Harry yelps at the pain even as he pushes up into Louis' hand. "Can you stay hard, love? For me?"

"Yes, yes,  _yes_ , gonna," Harry promises breathlessly. He thinks he'd promise to fly, would probably try doing it too, if it kept Louis talking like that. It's a moot point either way; he can feel his cock filling up under Louis' hand.

"Good boy," Louis says. He leaves a path of suckling kisses and gentle nibbles all the way down Harry's chest and to his belly button which he circles with his tongue, making Harry squirm at the ticklish feeling. He sucks a bruise into the slight swell of Harry's tummy, just above the bow on his knickers. His teeth graze down over the skin until he catches the elastic waistband between them. He pulls it away from Harry's skin then lets it snap back into place. Harry gasps. His back arches off the bed and his hands come to rest on Louis' head naturally, fingers sinking into the longer strands at the front for something to hold onto. Louis rubs up and down his cock once more, settles on cupping his balls and squeezing them instead when he follows the same path with his tongue. He wraps his lips around the head and sucks on it through the lace, his moan sending vibrations deep into Harry's belly. Harry barely resists pulling him off even when his hips stutter upwards. A fresh layer of sweat breaks out over his skin as a familiar sort of desperation sparks in his chest. Louis catches some lace between his teeth and sucks on it noisily as he pulls off of Harry's cock. He runs his thumb over the bulge almost absently when he looks up at Harry's face. "Such a sweet boy, aren't you? Even taste good." Harry just whines, lifting up off the bed and clenching around the plug inside him, not feeling enough while already feeling too much.

He goes easily when Louis grabs his hips and guides him onto his belly. He folds his arms under the pillow that he buries his face in; it smells of Louis' conditioner and his sweat and he whines at how even just that has his cock twitching. The sheets underneath him offer no comfort, already scalding hot from his body and only making him feel even more overheated. He wriggles his hips, rubbing himself against the bed and shifting the plug around a bit. He wants to cry from how rough the drag of the lace is over his cock, from how the plug pulls on his rim, from how  _good_ it all is anyway. Louis straddles his legs. The fabric of his suit makes Harry's skin itch with the need to remove it.

He runs his hands up the backs of Harry's thighs, his thumbs sinking into the relaxed muscles there. He follows where the seam of the panties rides up between Harry's arsecheeks and spreads them a little. He traces the trim all the way to Harry's hips, then thumbs back in over the bottom of his cheeks.

The first slap of Louis' open palm comes as a surprise. Harry gasps and tenses up all over so the next one smarts even more. The next one he's ready for but the one after it lands lower, almost on his thigh and that stings even more and he's tense again when the back of Louis' hand hits over his other cheek. They're not particularly hard spanks, not nearly as bad as some that Louis' given him before, they're just too quick for him to keep up with right now, too random to predict. He cries out when four more quick smacks catch over on the bottoms of both his cheeks. The next two, one on each side, are much harder and he presses down into the bed as if he can escape them; all it does is make him tense for the next hit that comes, this one again at the centre. The plug shifts inside him, makes a shiver run through him when it presses against his spot. He arches up this time, presenting his arse for more. Where he's left exposed by the panties, his skin feels hotter already, tender and stinging. He whines when nothing happens, the anticipation of a slap much worse than the actual hit. Louis' hands groping him and squeezing a globe of his arse each make him flinch, then relax and moan.

"Got such a pretty bum, darling, don't you?" Louis asks, spreading him and making his panties ride up even more. He bites into the soft flesh, his teeth sinking in right at the edge of the lace. Harry pushes up into his mouth, then down into the bed, already losing control of his body. His cock must be leaking again, but he came so much the first time that it makes little difference. Louis soothes the bite with his tongue, the tip of it sneaking underneath the panties to wet over the indents of his upper teeth as well. He presses his thumb into the mark when he pulls back, as if Harry could somehow forget that it's there. "Bit pale though, innit? Want me to make it match your pretty panties?"

" _Hnnnnnnng_ ," Harry grunts, shoving his arse up into Louis' hands. "Please, Daddy,  _please_ ," he begs. He wants it so much so suddenly, wants it even if he can't see it, wants it because Louis wants it. Wants it because Louis will think it's pretty.

He only has a second's worth of warning before Louis spanks him again, two quick smacks over his bottom that are more noise and warm-up than the real thing. When the first real slap stings over his right cheek he sinks into the bed with a sigh. All three hits that follow are focused low on his right cheek, leave it burning even when Louis switches to alternating between his upper thigh and the curve of his arse under the lace. He doesn't keep going for long enough to make the lace leave an imprint on his skin, switches to his left cheek instead. Harry tries to count in his head, but the steady rhythm Louis sets is weirdly soothing, makes him slip into that fuzzy mindset where he can't keep track of anything that's happening around him. It doesn't even matter after a while because the pain all melds together until he feels like his entire arse is on fire and the loud smack of Louis' hand over it is as expected and normal as breathing. He doesn't even notice when it stops, not until Louis' nails scratch harshly down the backs of his thighs, giving him a new kind of pain to focus on.

He realises the pillow is wet. He's drooling, spit bubbling at the corners of his lips, but mostly it's from the tears that are running down his cheeks silently. "Daddy," he whimpers. His arse is burning up without the steady jolts of pain that Louis' hand brings and he wiggles against the bed, hoping it'll make Louis keep going. He's almost surprised when his cock kicks and drools more precome, so focused on the sting of the spanking that he practically forgets his body is not just that.

Louis runs his nose over Harry's spine, traces the line of it up from his tailbone to his shoulderblades and then licks his way down. He presses a kiss just above the waistband of his panties. His beard feels scratchy and his hair tickles and Harry is far too overwhelmed to do more than take note of it.

"Looks so good, baby, wish you could see," Louis says. He cups his hands over the swell of Harry's arse as if to frame it. "So perfectly pink." His breath ghosts over the dip of Harry's back, cooling on his sweaty skin. "Makes you even prettier for Daddy."

Harry's eyes prickle with tears again, his eyelashes still clumped together from his previous bout of sobs. "Daddy," he whispers under his breath, the word like a mantra at this point.

Louis sits up again, the additional warmth of his body disappearing from Harry's back and making a chill run through him. He takes his hands off of Harry until their only point of contact are Louis' clothed thighs holding Harry's legs closed. From the rustle of fabric, Harry can only assume Louis' taken off his jacket. When his touch returns it's one small hand high on his back, holding him down. Harry doesn't have to strength to get up, has no reason to try, but the physical aspect of the gesture still makes arousal coil in his belly.

Two of Louis' fingers run down his crack, pushing the lace in uncomfortably. They zero in on the base of the plug almost immediately, tap at the centre of it too lightly to make any difference before Louis grabs onto it properly and tugs until the widest part _just_ slips out only to push it back inside. The panties cut into Harry's hips and arse, stretched thin when Louis starts to pull the plug out more. Harry just sighs into the pillow. He's floaty and relaxed from the spanking, barely even feels the stretch of the flared end of the plug as it tugs on his rim repeatedly. He inhales, exhales. It's like a magical moment of being in tandem with the whole world; his heartbeat stays level and everything else happens in sync with it - the smarting throb of his arse, the pull and push of the plug as Louis fucks him with it, the rhythm of his breathing. He could almost fall asleep were it not for the insistent burning pleasure coursing through him.

Louis' hand comes up to the back of his neck, fingers curling around it as if he might press down. "Look at you, baby," he says, only a hint of a strain showing in his voice. "Take everything Daddy gives you so well. Gonna take Daddy's cock this well too, love?"

"Yes, Daddy," Harry mumbles immediately, something inside him almost unraveling at the realisation that he hasn't really felt Louis' cock yet other than as a teasing press through a layer of fabric, hasn't even seen it. "Wanna, please, Daddy." He pushes his arse out and arches his back, makes himself look as inviting as he can.

Louis shoves the plug all the way inside him and twists it in a circle before pulling it out. "You've earned it, darling, been such a good boy today," he praises. He runs his hand down the curve of Harry's back and hooks his fingers in the waistband of the panties, snaps it over Harry's skin a few times before pulling it back enough to get the plug out. Harry feels weirdly empty without it inside, loose and open and almost like he's missing a part of him. He clenches his hole, reluctant to let any come escape him. He gasps when Louis thumbs at him through the panties, the feeling of lace dragging over his already abused rim new and exciting. Louis rubs at the back of his neck with his knuckles. "Head up, H," he requests. Harry obeys without a second thought. Even the stale air in the room feels refreshing on his face after how long he's had it in the pillow. He's so focused on Louis' thumb circling his hole that the touch of something hard and wet to his lips catches him off-guard. He opens his eyes to find Louis' hand holding the plug out to him.

"Oh God," he garbles around the silicone when Louis shoves the plug into his mouth as soon as his lips part. It tastes mostly of lube, but there's a hint of salty bitterness on it that Harry would recognise in his sleep; he licks around it like he would around the head of Louis' cock, moans at what little come he manages to find. He sucks on it as if it can give him more.

"Good boy," Louis says, then pushes his head back down into the pillow. He grabs at Harry's arse, his sweaty palms making the skin sting, and spreads him open. He prods at Harry's hole with his thumb until it it slips inside. Harry gasps, the plug clicking against the back of his teeth when it almost falls out. Louis' finger isn't hard to take in, neither as wide nor as long as the toy, but the lace is rough where he's not used to feeling it and he rocks back, trying to get more of it. The panties drag over his cock and trap it against his hip when they stretch to allow for Louis' thumb to push in further. Louis twists his thumb around, as if he's  _trying_ to make Harry feel it as much as possible. "You like that?" he asks. "Why wouldn't you, you always like having something inside you." He pulls his thumb out quickly, leaving only the lace that Harry tightens around instinctively. It's the strangest feeling, neither there not not, both gentle and harsh. Louis leans over and licks over him, his tongue barely wetting the lace. "Some day I should try stuffing you with some of your panties, bet you'd like that," he rumbles against Harry's hole before pushing his tongue inside. Harry sinks his teeth into the base of the plug, too distracted to keep sucking on it. The contrast between the familiarity of the shape and teasing pressure and the novelty of the texture has him shoving his arse back into Louis' face. He wants at once both to ride Louis' tongue until he comes again just like this and to rip off the panties so he can feel Louis' touch directly on his skin.

In the end, it's not really him making the choices right now. Louis pulls back, drags his panties down to about mid-thigh and spreads his arse with both hands. He tucks his thumbs inside and stretches Harry's hole open; Harry chokes on a gasp when he realises he's leaking and can't stop. He sucks on the plug for something to do, hoping to muffle whimpers and sobs into the pillow. The sheets are blissfully soft on his cock after the tight lace and he can't resist rubbing himself against them in aborted little strokes.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Louis teases. The tip of his tongue trails up from Harry's balls to his hole and dips briefly inside. "Full of surprises tonight, love. This all for Daddy?"

An endless loop of  _yes, Daddy, always, please_ starts playing in Harry's head; he tries to say it out loud, but all that comes out is a high-pitched whine and a gurgle of spit when he tries to slurp it up so he arches his back and shoves his arse into Louis' face instead. He tries to clench on Louis' thumbs but they hold him wedged open and he can feel more come slip out of him. He blushes furiously, suddenly glad he has his face buried in the pillow. All he wants is to be a good boy for Daddy and when Louis has to gather the come up on his tongue and push it back in again he thinks he might start crying from embarrassment. Louis coos at him.

"Don't be shy now, baby. Daddy likes to see you all messy like this."

"Messy," Harry manages to mumble around the plug; he relaxes a bit, doesn't try to fight it when he gets even messier with spit gathering in the corners of his mouth and come leaking out of his arse and his cock drooling over his belly.

"Mm, love being a pretty mess for Daddy, don't you?" Louis asks. He lets go of Harry's arse to run his hands down his thighs a few times before spreading his cheeks again. He's leaning in close, his breath ghosting over Harry's taint where he's wet from spit and leftover lube and making his skin prickle with anticipation. Louis kisses him first, an oddly intimate gesture that has him immediately sinking into the bed. He holds his breath and suckles weakly on the plug in his mouth.

Louis starts out by licking around his rim and just dipping his tongue inside a few times. He moans, the sound vibrations like a tickle climbing up Harry's spine and making him squirm. He's never really shy about eating Harry out, but tonight he's particularly shameless about it, doesn't bother with any build-up, just licks over Harry's hole until spit is running down his arse and shoves his tongue inside. He wiggles it around, doesn't even try to go too deep. His lips stay sealed over Harry's rim and cover his teeth; he doesn't suck, Harry doesn't even think he's trying to clean him up at all. He takes his tongue out, licks over him, up and back down before fucking into him again. He moves his tongue around in a circle, too shallowly to make Harry lose it completely, too casually to eat the come out of him. He keeps a steady rhythm, in and out and up and down, doesn't pause, doesn't talk, doesn't swallow.

Harry sighs noisily, the way his nose is a bit stuffy from crying and pressed into the pillow preventing him from breathing too deeply. His mind quiets slowly until it's only filled with a pleasant buzz and an almost instinctual little hitch before every move Louis makes, even when he expects it. He thinks he's getting even messier than he was when Louis started, feels wetness dripping down his balls even though he can't tell anymore if it's spit or come or a mix of both. Everything feels soft and slow, a bit like a hazy fever dream. The only thing he can really focus on is how Louis' nails sink into the already burning flesh of his arse, little half-moons of prickling pain that break through.

He doesn't know when he stops sucking on the toy in his mouth, but by the time Louis starts just fucking him with his tongue, there's spit running out of his mouth and wetting the pillow almost steadily and all he can do is mumble  _Daddy_ under his breath with every push of Louis' tongue inside him. It's not really a stretch, not with how open he is, but it's a gentle wet pressure that's just enough to tease him and it's more than just enough to make him rut against the bed.

Louis lifts off and hovers above his arse, his breath ghosting over the heated skin of Harry's cheeks. He squeezes them and scratches down to the tops of Harry's thighs, his blunt nails leaving burning trails in their wake and making Harry grunt and choke a bit on the plug. "Been so good, baby, don't get impatient now," Louis scolds. He dribbles some spit over Harry's rim and spreads it around with his thumb, pushes it in a few times, just grazing over Harry's prostate. Harry can't remember why he's nodding.

He lets Louis guide him by the hips so he turns around, arms swinging above his head. He shivers, suddenly cold, when he finds himself lying on top of so far untouched sheets. The lace tickles when Louis pulls his panties off all the way. The touch of Louis' hands when he runs them over Harry's calves and up the insides of his thighs to spread them is firm and sure though. He tugs the plug out from Harry's mouth and wipes his face of snot and tears and spit.

Harry opens his eyes. Even the relatively weak light of the single lamp seems too strong and blinding. He has to blink a few times to clear his vision. Louis is holding himself up on one arm, his smiling face only a breath away, his hair a wild mess and damp at the roots, his eyes blown and shiny and his cheeks red. There's sweat beading on his forehead and temples. Harry licks his lips when he sees his beard matted with spit and traces of come over his mouth. "Daddy," he rasps, his voice rough and weak.

"Missed your pretty face for a while there," Louis says. He combs Harry's hair back off his face and traces his thumb over Harry's bottom lip. Harry still can't look away from his mouth. He wraps his legs around Louis' waist and pulls him in, hissing when Louis' suit rubs over the tender skin of his upper thighs but not letting it stop him.

"Daddy, please," he whispers.

Louis runs a finger down his chin and over the centre of his throat to his chest. "What do you want, love?" he asks even as he grinds against Harry's arse. "Want a kiss?" He smirks, trails his finger lower, touch light and tickling. He circles Harry's belly button with it. "Maybe you want Daddy to touch you a bit, make you come again?" He makes a loose ring with his thumb and forefinger, ghosts a touch over Harry's cock with it. Harry gasps, oversensitive. He follows the path of Louis' finger with his eyes; his skin is shiny with sweat that somehow makes the rose gold glitter all over it even more prominent and his nipples are a bit red and puffy, but the truly obscene part is actually between his legs where his thighs look pale against the black of Louis' suit and his cock, red and swollen, dwarfs Louis' half-formed fist and come stains his skin. He lifts his hips up and rubs his arse over where he can feel Louis is hard.

"Pretty," he whispers, watching them move together.

"The prettiest."

"Fuck me, Daddy."

Louis strokes up his cock once more, tightens his grip so he pulls the foreskin up and makes the mess of come and precome pool at the tip. He swipes it off with his thumb, then licks it clean, drawing Harry's eyes to him again. He hasn't licked his lips yet, still has droplets of his own come all over his face and Harry physically cannot look away. Even when Louis kneels up and unzips his suit to take his cock out, Harry's eyes stay glued on his face. He's only peripherally aware of Louis digging up the lube and slicking himself up, focused instead on his reactions, the way his eyes flutter almost shut and his lips part. He squeezes Louis' waist with his thighs and pulls him as close as he can.

"What did I tell you about being impatient, baby?" Louis asks.

Harry bites his lip. Although he's blushing, he doesn't look away or stop trying to get Louis to hurry up, doesn't even think about it, too eager and needy to even consider it. "Please." He feels Louis line up and bites his lip harder; he wants to keep watching, wants to listen, wants to see and hear that he feels good for Daddy, but the pleasure when Louis bottoms out in one long stroke is so sudden and overwhelming that he has to close his eyes; he moans so loudly he drowns out any other sound. He had the plug in him for hours and it doesn't compare, doesn't even come close to the perfect fullness of Louis' cock in him, to the heat and the stretch and the pressure. It's like he's been preparing for this moment all day, like everything has lead to it, like something was missing and now he's found it. When he looks down to where their bodies are joined and finds himself even wetter than before, he's honestly not sure if he's come again or if it's just precome.

Louis grabs his waist and keeps him steady as he starts thrusting, pulling out almost all the way for long, hard strokes. "Fuck, love," he says through a little laugh. "D'you even know how good you feel? It's like you were made to take my cock."

Harry feels a pleasantly tingly warmth spread to him at the words. It's not just the compliment and the praise, it's what Louis is saying, how possessive it sounds, how accurate it feels; that's all he wants, to be good for Louis, to be Daddy's pretty little boy. He lets Louis use him any way he wants, lies back and loses himself in the feeling and the image that Louis makes above him. He watches Louis' fingers sink into his sides, Louis' hips work against his, the flash of his tummy where his shirt falls. There are sweat stains under his arms. He must have undone another button on at some point because his collarbones are showing now, but he's still completely dressed; there's something inherently dominant about how he's still almost straight-laced in a suit where Harry is a mess of alternatingly pale and pink skin covered in glitter, sweat and come.

Harry's whole body jolts a little up the bed with every thrust, his cock, still hard, twitching against his belly. His arms feel heavy above his head; he barely manages to force them to move. He twirls the long piece of fringe that's falling in Louis' face around one finger, his other hand fisting Louis' shirt to pull him closer. Louis smells only faintly of cologne, mostly of sweat and sex and a little bit of Harry and Harry  _wants_ with a sudden urgency, closer and more and faster and deeper. He tries to unbutton the shirt, but his fingers are shaking and he's starting to get distracted by Louis fucking him harder and he just gives up, yanking at the button until he manages to tear it off. He rests his palm on Louis' chest, somehow relieved by the skin-on-skin contact. He rips the shirt open as far as he has the strength for, leaves his fingers hooked over the last few buttons; his knuckles graze Louis' belly every time Louis fucks into him. He gets his fingers in Louis' chest hair and tugs on it, hoping to bring him closer. He looks back up at Louis' face, licking his lips at the mess still there.

"Daddy," he whines. Louis' hips stutter against him. "Please,  _kiss_."

Louis leans over him, gets a hand in his hair and nuzzles into his cheek before connecting their mouths. He's breathing hard, too hard for a proper kiss, but Harry doesn't really care. He moans at how swollen Louis' lips are, licks the taste of his come from his skin and shivers at the prickle of his beard. He wraps his arms around Louis' neck and holds him tightly, doesn't let him move away again even when it forces Louis to switch to quicker, shallower thrusts.

Louis nips on his bottom lip and tugs on his hair as if to distract him. He pulls away enough that he can speak. "D'you know how good you've been today, baby? Did everything Daddy asked you to and put on such a pretty show for me, yeah? Daddy's so _so_ proud of you, darling." Harry just whines and clings onto him tighter. His head gets all fuzzy when Daddy talks to him like that and he somehow almost forgets he's a physical being that's made of more than just Daddy's praise and pleasure and love. He doesn't mind though, he trusts Daddy to take care of him while he's far away and riding high on the sound of Daddy's voice.

The only reason he doesn't miss it when Louis pulls out of him and gives himself a few quick tugs before finishing over his softening cock and messy belly is that Louis' come on his skin always feel like burning brand, one that he wears proudly. He reaches down absently and swipes his fingers through the stickiness, mixing his own come with Louis'. Louis grabs his hand and brings it up to his own mouth, licking his fingers clean with a quiet hum. He kisses Harry before he swallows, shares the taste with him.

He collapses on his side, keeping his arm around Harry's waist and pulling him along so they're snuggled together. Harry tucks his head against Louis' chest and tangles their legs together, making himself as small as he can to fit better into Louis' arms. He's been in that strange place that feels a bit like the fog between dream and wakefulness for a while, but it's only in the aftermath that he really feels  _high_ on it, like he's riding a wave of pleasure that never ends. The world feels a bit ethereal and the only thing that's real to him is Louis' body next to his. He can hear Louis talking to him, probably for some time as his voice goes from breathless and high-pitched to a low murmur, but he doesn't feel like saying anything, knows that proper words require him to arrange his thoughts into something coherent rather than letting them fly, so he just taps Louis' chest twice, a sign that he's okay.

He catches a few things here and there, Louis calling him  _baby_ and  _love_ , telling him he did well, asking him if he's back yet. The first real sentence he hears is, "How does a bath sound, hm?"

"Bath," he repeats, thinking about sinking into warm water that smells nice and sweet and leaning back into Louis' naked body.

Louis kisses his forehead. "You want a bath?" he asks.

Harry nods. He makes no move to actually get up. Instead, he tilts his head up and kisses Louis on the lips, staying long enough to feel how it makes Louis smile. "Thank you, Daddy," he whispers and cuddles closer.

**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://captivekinqs.tumblr.com)


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